“You’re going to have it sitting in your back yard anyway, so it won’t be any big secret.” Nick gestured toward the house, where he could see an empty pedestal standing in the rose garden. “That where it goes?”
“Yes. Facing out, away from the house.”
“How will we find it in the dark?”
“There’s a spotlight up there under the roof. It lights up this whole area. I can turn it on whatever time you say.”
“Midnight tonight.”
Blake nodded. “Fine.”
“Will anyone else be here?”
“Just myself. I don’t want my wife involved in this. As soon as you return the eagle to its perch, the money is yours.”
“The police will find it.”
“I only need it for a day. Then they can have it back if they want it. But I’m relying on you to cover your tracks well enough so they don’t follow you out here immediately. You know about the television monitor?”
“The what?”
“The city is testing a half dozen television cameras in various downtown locations as a crime deterrent. One of them is on a light pole across the street from the courthouse and it monitors that whole area.”
“I must be getting old,” Nick admitted. “I never noticed it.”
“Any problem?”
“No.”
“Then I’ll see you at midnight.”
“Or shortly after. I have to wait till the streets are deserted.”
“I understand.”
They shook hands and Nick walked back to the helicopter.
Sunday night was cool and overcast after an early evening rain. By midnight, after a movie house down the block had disgorged a dozen or so paying customers, the area around the old courthouse was quiet and empty of traffic. Nick observed it from a doorway across the street, paying special attention to the small television monitor he now saw mounted on a light pole some twelve feet off the ground. Occasionally the camera would be moved in an arc by remote control, but mostly it stayed in one position. Whoever was monitoring the sets at police headquarters did so in a most haphazard manner. Nick figured he might have about five minutes before they realized something was amiss.
At ten minutes after twelve Nick switched on the little portable radio transmitter he carried. “Calling copter one. Do you hear me, copter one?”
There was a crackling in the speaker and then Jimmy Claus’s voice came through. “I’m here. Okay to come lower?”
“Come ahead.”
The sound of the helicopter grew closer. Nick switched off the transmitter and picked up a long wooden pole that rested against the wall next to him. He walked quickly across the grass of the square to a point just behind the light post supporting the television camera, then paused to remove a small can of spray paint from one pocket of his jacket. Holding the can away from him, he pushed down the aerosol button until the paint began to spray. Careful not to spray himself, he then taped the can to the end of the pole and lifted it high above his head. In an instant he’d spray-painted the lens of the television camera.
The helicopter was coming in low now, its sound reverberating among the buildings. Nick tossed away the paint can and pole and ran toward the stone eagle. With luck the man monitoring the set would fool with the dials for a while before he sent a patrol car to investigate.
He saw the cable snake out of the bottom hatch of the copter and waited to grab it. Then, following moves he’d rehearsed in his mind a dozen times, he looped the cable under the eagle’s rampant wings and locked it in place. He radioed Claus to start lifting.
Nick held his breath as the stone eagle wobbled on its perch, about to take flight. The ugly beak tilted in his direction, then swayed and lifted clear of the pedestal. In the distance he heard the first faint whine of a siren.
Jimmy Claus knew how to fly the copter with skill and daring. He went straight up, clear of the buildings and the city lights, then headed slowly away with his burden. Nick raced back to his rented car and drove off in the opposite direction. The siren was getting closer, but he was out of sight before the police car appeared.
Now if Claus could only set the statue down on its perch at the Blake estate as easily as he’d made off with it, the $20,000 fee was as good as in Nick’s pocket.
The spotlight on the rear of the Blake country home bathed the rose gardens in a sharply etched glow, showing the empty pedestal clearly. Nick parked his car in the driveway and searched the night sky for some sign of the helicopter’s running lights. “Calling copter one — do you hear me, copter one?”
“I’m up here,” came the reply. “Waiting for your signal. Okay to come in for delivery?”
“Come on down,” Nick said.
Then he heard the familiar beat of the rotor blades as Claus brought the helicopter in low, traveling slowly to minimize the sway of the cable-held eagle. Nick watched the statue’s descent for a moment, then glanced around to see that Hamish Blake had appeared on the lawn behind him. “How’s it going?” Blaked asked, then suddenly there was the crack of a rifle shot and the simultaneous shattering of the spotlight. The lawn and rose garden were plunged into darkness.
“Damn!” Nick didn’t bother to seek the source of the shot. He was on the radio to Jimmy Claus. “Copter one — trouble down here. Take her up!”
“I can’t see a thing.” Jimmy crackled back.
“Hang on.”
At Nick’s side Hamish Blake was bellowing into the darkness. “Who’s there? Damn it, who are you?”
The voice that replied was female, and Nick recognized Silke Blake at once. “It’s just me, Uncle Hamish. Looking after Grandfather’s good name, which is more than anyone else in the family ever did.”
“Why did you shoot out the light?”
She came forward, dressed in tight jeans and a black turtleneck sweater and carrying a .22 rifle at her side. “So you couldn’t bring that statue down here. I knew you were up to something, hiring Nick Velvet like that!”
Nick grabbed the rifle from her and she offered no resistance. “Well, the copter can’t stay up there forever and he’s sure not taking the eagle back to the courthouse. It’s either bring it down here or dump it in the river. Which do you want?”
“You can’t land without lights,” Silke answered smugly.
“If it goes in the river, you’re out twenty grand, Velvet,” Hamish Blake growled. “I want that statue right down here!”
Nick clicked on the walkie-talkie unit. “Copter one, do you hear me?”
“Right here,” came the reply.
“Do you have any emergency flares aboard?”
“I think there are a couple in the supply pack.”
“Drop them and then come in as we planned.”
The copter circled one more time and the two flares burst over the night sky. In their eerie light Jimmy Claus descended again and maneuvered the great stone eagle toward its perch.
“You don’t know what you’re doing,” Silke warned, but she made no further move to stop them.
Nick fetched a ladder from the tool shed and climbed up to guide the bird onto its pedestal. “This how you want it?” he called down to Hamish Blake, working fast before the twin flares burned themselves out.
“A little more toward the front. It must be lined up exactly— That’s it! Yes!”
The eagle settled down slowly until the position was just right. Then Nick unhooked the cable and instructed Claus to haul the cable in. “All finished,” he told Blake.
“Now what are you going to do?” Silke demanded of her uncle.
The flares were dying and the man’s rough-hewn features were sinking into shadow. “Do? Why I’m going to pay Mr. Velvet his money.”
The helicopter circled one more time and came in for a landing on the far lawn.